


Somniferous

by jacksparrow589



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Shirbert, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, at one point anyway, basically everything you've come to expect of me, kissing and cuddling and general softness, not exactly canon compliant, relationship progression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25326211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksparrow589/pseuds/jacksparrow589
Summary: "It'll be a wonderful adventure, seeing a new place, learning what lies beyond the schoolhouse… My life hasn't been the most rooted, but this is the first time I'm grateful for it. It'll make it easier to transition to the city; to a new place full of opportunity and excitement..." She pauses for a moment, then admits, "Though I suppose Avonlea's the first place I'll truly miss."She's about to ask Gilbert what he missed about Avonlea when he traveled, but when she looks at him, she sees his chin tilted to his chest. His eyes are closed and he's breathing evenly."Gilbert?" Anne's voice is only just above a whisper. What are the rules when a neighbor boy falls asleep in your kitchen? Should she wake him? Surely he wasn't intending to stay long; it's not as though he doesn't have things to do.--------A 5+1 about 5 times that Anne or Gilbert fall asleep in front of the other, and one time they can’t. I’m not in a mood to be entirely AWAE S3 compliant right now, so you'll see some familiar events thrown in with some non-familiar ones.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 45
Kudos: 211





	Somniferous

**Author's Note:**

> This starts the winter just prior to season 3 and goes up through a couple years into their marriage.

The first time it happens, it's the dead of winter.

It's not unusual for Gilbert to come over to Green Gables if his chores are done (or if the weather is poor and he wants to wait) and he wants to give Bash and Mary a little time to themselves. Not that he'd ever say as much, of course—instead it's usually some school-related excuse, and of late, the newspaper has provided plenty of them.

Today, though, his reason is a little different.

Anne looks up at Gilbert as he knocks once before letting himself in. She's a little surprised to see him—Marilla would normally be returning from helping Mary at about this time—so she asks, "Is something wrong?"

Gilbert removes his cap and shakes his head, scattering a few snowflakes from where they had settled in the hair that had been exposed to the elements. "Not exactly." He grins ruefully. "I was trying to study, but Dellie had all of us up half the night with her crying, and she's been at it again for the last couple hours. I think she knows her lungs are stronger now, because she certainly loves to use them."

"Ah." Anne kneads the dough for the scones she's making a few more times before starting to shape rounds. She waits for Gilbert to settle in a chair before continuing, "You can be grateful there aren't two of her. Twins screaming around the clock…" She shudders. "I could happily go my whole life without having to live within a day's ride of twins again." For a moment, she seems lost in her thoughts, but she notices Gilbert's curious look. She can't quite bring herself to smile and instead busies herself with getting the scones in the oven as she explains, "Before I came to Avonlea, I was in serv—I was placed with a family with three… well, two sets of twins at the time, but Mrs. Hammond gave birth to the third set while I was… with them."

Gilbert nods thoughtfully. "That explains the aversion." He thinks for a moment, unable to entirely hide a yawn. "I don't think we've had twins in Avonlea. Can't say you won't run into any in Charlottetown, though."

"Yes, well, hopefully they've learned to stop screaming by the time they've gotten to Queen's," Anne remarks dryly. "In any event, it's a big city—bigger than Avonlea, at least. I should be able to avoid anyone I develop a distaste for, twin or not." She looks out the window, marveling quietly. "It'll be a wonderful adventure, seeing a new place, learning what lies beyond the schoolhouse… My life hasn't been the most rooted, but this is the first time I'm grateful for it. It'll make it easier to transition to the city; to a new place full of opportunity and excitement..." She pauses for a moment, then admits, "Though I suppose Avonlea's the first place I'll truly miss."

She's about to ask Gilbert what he missed about Avonlea when he traveled, but when she looks at him, she sees his chin tilted to his chest. His eyes are closed and he's breathing evenly.

"Gilbert?" Anne's voice is only just above a whisper. What are the rules when a neighbor boy falls asleep in your kitchen? Should she wake him? Surely he wasn't intending to stay long; it's not as though he doesn't have things to do.

Then again, she's making scones; perhaps he'll take some with him. It's settled, she decides as she sets to cleaning up. She'll rouse him when the scones are finished baking. Maybe he'll wake up before then and she'll be spared figuring out what it is she should do. For now, she leaves him to catch what is probably the best sleep he's gotten in the past day.

* * *

She's worrying her lip as she cleans the flour from the table when the urge to sneeze overtakes her. She pulls her apron to cover her nose and mouth, but she can't keep it quiet.

She doesn't see Gilbert startle awake, nearly falling from the chair. She does, however, catch the tail end of him composing himself.

"Sorry." Her cheeks are flaming.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing," Gilbert insists. "I'm the one who fell asleep!" Anne can't be sure, but she thinks there's just a little bit of extra color on his cheeks, too.

"Well—" One corner of Anne's mouth quirks up. "—nobody's stopping you from apologizing. Frightfully rude of you to fall asleep mid conversation!"

Gilbert's lips curl up into a grin. "Frightfully rude, indeed. Well, I most humbly beg your forgiveness for my appalling manners."

"I'll consider it if you'll put these away while I get the scones out of the oven," Anne informs him, still smiling lightheartedly as she hands him the flour and sugar, informing him that they go on the middle shelf of the pantry, closer to the door than not—he'll see the spot.

He returns, and not empty-handed. He has some apple butter Mary made from some of the autumn harvest. It's the perfect balance of sweet and tart, spiced to further deliciousness with cinnamon and nutmeg, and it is quite possibly the most heavenly substance Anne has ever tasted.

"I was… thinking we could split one before I go?" he ventures hopefully.

Anne blinks, the blush returning to her cheeks just a little. She'd had a similar notion. However… "Gilbert, if you think for one second that I am going to give you anything less than a full scone of your own, you can leave without any." She's only pretending sternness, and she can hardly keep the smile from showing.

Gilbert sets the jar down on the table and holds his hands up in mock surrender. "Far be it from me to refuse my gracious hostess; I just didn't want to deprive you."

Anne gives him a look. "Between me and Marilla, we make enough in a week for Jerry to bring plenty home to his family. This was actually going with you."

"So you're willing to deprive _my_ family, is that it?" Gilbert gives her a grin that's mostly teasing, but there's something else to it—something that Anne isn't sure she can name. Instead, she rolls her eyes and hands Gilbert a plate for his scone and a spoon for the apple butter.

"You've caught me out. I will have no resources to make more and I have no desire whatsoever to come over and see Dellie." Anne halves her scone and smears apple butter on it.

"If you want to trade, I'd happily live here for a week." Gilbert is a bit more methodical about spreading the apple butter on his scone, but only a bit.

"I'm perfectly fine with visiting," Anne clarifies after a small bite of scone.

Gilbert laughs. "I had to try."

 _We have a spare room here,_ Anne is about to tell him mostly jokingly, but something stops her. Instead, she finishes her scone and packs the rest up for Gilbert and his family as Gilbert puts on his coat. She thinks she catches him looking at her a couple times, but it's only because she's looking at him, too.

"Say hello to Mary and Bash and Dellie for me," Anne tells him, holding out the basket of scones.

"I always do." Gilbert reaches out to take the basket. He's not really looking, and so his hand partially overlaps Anne's. He moves it quickly, thankfully along the handle and not away like Anne's hand moves, otherwise the basket's contents would be all over the floor. "Um, see you tomorrow." 

Anne nods and shoves her braids behind her ears. "Yes! Um, tomorrow."

They stand facing each other for a moment, and then Gilbert departs. Anne watches him go, trying to tamp down the myriad of confusing feelings that have welled up in the last ten minutes.

She is not successful. Even hours later, they're still swirling in the back of her mind, in her stomach, and, most unsettlingly, in her heart.

* * *

* * *

The second time it happens, it's a bit less of a surprise.

It's a few weeks later. Anne's eyes are a bit glassy with fever. It's not a bad one, but she's still hazy.

Gilbert is trying not to fuss, but it's a struggle. Instead, he focuses on the classwork that Anne's missed that day.

(He'd volunteered—without prompting, Miss Stacy had noted to herself with some amusement—to walk Anne through what she's missed instead of attending study group. Of course, since Miss Stacy has decreed it, and because their rivalry is still fierce, Anne is only a little begrudging about the whole thing.)

He's given her a general overview, and is deliberately keeping History, as the thing Anne seemed keenest on, for last. Mathematics, he's kept mercifully short and to the point. It was easy, after all; Anne might not like algebra, but she does understand it, and Miss Stacy is spending a few extra days on it for the students who don't. Grammar is similarly short. Geography takes longer, as neither of them are particularly keen on it. Literature is a breeze for Anne, and she perks up considerably. Penmanship... Well, neither of them are particularly known for excelling in it, but it's legible and there's really nothing to teach, per se. They're studying the weather in science, and it's all about clouds and winds at the moment.

They finally get to history after an hour. They're discussing the Treaty of Paris of 1763, and it quickly becomes clear that Anne's interest is focused on two things: the word "treaty" and the idea of Paris. Gilbert doesn't have much of a heart to steer her from that initially, but there are a few key points he knows he should outline that are less interesting.

He has to laugh when, even in a slightly addled state, Anne despairs of his pronunciation of _Île Saint-Jean_. (Her pronunciation fares marginally better, a result of both Diana and Jerry mercilessly correcting her, she informs him.) And when he moves to calling it _St. John Island_ , Anne can't help but roll her eyes and quietly declare the name "entirely unromantic". Gilbert gives her another one of those looks she can't decipher and continues with the lesson.

It takes only a couple more minutes, but Anne nods off. Gilbert doesn't see it as an insult; he's sure Anne would panic if she knew. But she's still exhausted and won't be back in school for another day at least, and so really, it's understandable.

He'll tell Miss Stacy that it was his fault for not collecting Anne's schoolwork tomorrow. It's the truth, after all. He could wake Anne up to collect it, of course, but he won't.

Instead, he takes a blanket from the back of a chair and gently places it over Anne, hoping she's not so lightly asleep that it will disturb her. He also wants to put an actual pillow between her and the arm of the couch she's slumped against, but that seems a bridge too far.

He's packing to leave just as Marilla returns. Anne startles awake, pulling the blanket more snugly around herself, but looking slightly perplexed. She knows which chair it came off of and she knows she didn't retrieve it, but she doesn't seem sure who _did_. Gilbert is almost grateful for Anne's hazy state, because it's clear Marilla's only just arrived, and he's not at all sure just how Anne would take his actions.

She starts to stand, but Marilla tells her that if she does, the only place she's going is to her room for more rest. The idea looks to have appeal, but she's not going to give up for the day in front of her rival! Anne straightens and grabs the notes she's taken, then glances up again.

"Thank you, Gilbert," she tells him, soft and earnest. "I appreciate your help."

He nods, a slight smile warming his eyes immensely as he says, "I hope you feel better soon. Rest up." He debates for a moment, then jokes, "We've got to do this again tomorrow, after all."

Anne pulls the blanket tighter around herself and smiles shyly. "See you then," she says, her voice only just audible.

"See you," he replies. He tips his cap to Marilla and steps out into the snow.

* * *

* * *

So much has changed the next time it happens.

It's midsummer. The effects of Mary's illness still linger, but she's come through the worst of it. There's still a bit of tension between Mary and her mother-in-law, as Hazel is feeling less needed with Mary's improved state, though everyone assures her that no pair of hands will be idle. The Queen's entrance exam is over with, so now instead of nervously waiting on the test, they wait nervously on the results. Gilbert's weekends are still occupied with apprenticing for Dr. Ward, and they're busier since the clerk—Ms. Rose—got engaged and moved to Paris just after Easter. Josie is still curt with Anne, but seems to at least give her a grudging bit of respect. Billy Andrews pretends Anne doesn't exist while Prissy happily chats with Anne about Queen's every Sunday after church services.

The most recent change, however, is what sees Anne and Gilbert relaxing in the Blythe orchard on a Tuesday evening.

After several false starts, too many blushing glances to count, and an unforgettable morning where Mary actually whacked Gilbert upside the head with a spoon, Gilbert had summoned his courage the day after the entrance exams and, in between rather a lot of nervous stammering, informed Anne he'd very much like to court her.

Anne's response, though clearly affirmative, had been entirely silent at first. She'd only gasped out "I'd like that, too" when she realized Gilbert was probably going to stand in front of her looking lost until she actually _said_ something.

Their guardians know, and Diana knows, of course, but it's been less than two weeks and they figure it's not really anyone's business, anyway. If anyone noticed that they were perhaps a little more friendly than usual after Sunday service, they weren't saying anything. The few actions that would betray them as romantically attached are currently limited to their properties or to stretches of forest and field where nobody else is around. Tonight, they're in the Blythe orchard.

 _Technically,_ Bash could walk by at any time.

He won't, he has slyly informed Gilbert, but he _could_.

They're hardly even touching, anyway. It's a sticky summer evening, and so their sleeves are rolled up and their footwear has been discarded down to bare legs and feet. They lie such that their feet are pointed in opposite directions, and the tops of the their heads are just resting against the top of the other's shoulder. Each has one hand behind their head, and the other arm is curved to run the hand through the other's hair (Anne's is unbound and fanned out behind her head for this express purpose) or to caress their cheek.

Both of them have had a long day, so Anne isn't terribly surprised when Gilbert's hand goes slack in her hair and his breathing evens out. She lets her eyes drift shut for a little bit, but she never dozes off for more than a few seconds. Avonlea is safe, of course, and she's especially safe here, but falling asleep in a place she hasn't before will never be something that comes easily to her.

She brushes her fingertips through Gilbert's hair, and he stirs just a little. So as not to further chance waking him just yet, she turns her head very slowly to face him. She hesitates for a second, realizing how bold her plan actually feels, but before she can talk herself out of it, Anne presses her lips to Gilbert's cheek for half a second. (She won't know until years later, when it has become much more commonplace, that this is Gilbert's favorite way to wake up. She'll suspect it, of course, but only after they've been married a year will he tell her.)

Gilbert turns to face her, pulling back just far enough to lock eyes with her. The look in Anne's eyes matches his, and that's all the encouragement he needs to lean back in and just briefly brush Anne's lips with his. It's a little clumsy—they're barely used to kissing when they're upright—but still wonderful all the same.

The call of an owl and the falling dusk have them sitting up and pulling on socks and boots before long. Anne rebraids one side of her hair while Gilbert attempts the other. He's still learning, and they both know that half the time he's entirely distracted by marveling at the fact that he _gets_ to touch her hair at all after the stunt he pulled when they first met, and so Anne winds up redoing most of it before Gilbert ties it off.

They walk back to Green Gables hand-in-hand, parting at the porch with only the brief squeeze of hands, but it's a promise that this is real; that it's going to continue to be real, and that they have _time_ , and for now, it's enough.

* * *

* * *

Nearly a year and a half later, they've decided that rules are meant to be broken.

Everyone else is either out or in their room, and Anne's room (which she shares with Diana, who is seeing Aunt Jo) is on the first floor, so Gilbert can climb out the window if he needs to. They were able to get him in through the front door, at least.

Anne asked him to come yesterday, while they were at school. She's been having trouble with an article for the Queen's student newspaper, and it doesn't take her saying it for Gilbert to see she's been up all night, fretting.

"I just want it to be _right_!" she tells him, just quiet enough that the girls in the other rooms can't hear, but loud enough that he can hear the frustration in her voice.

He's looking it over as he sits on the floor, his back against the bed with Anne next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. It makes sense to him; if property-owning widows and spinsters on the island are allowed to vote in municipal elections, why should other women not be allowed as they are in Nova Scotia? What's the difference? And why not on the national level, as well?

The one thing he could suggest is saying that a woman's vote would count just as much—and by that same token, just as little—as anyone else's in a national vote, but he already knows that minimizing the voice of women is anathema to Anne. If he suggests it, it'll be to say that he knows she can word it better, or that she should write to Miss Stacy. He knows they're still in touch.

"Anne, I think—" he stops.

She's asleep. Not deeply—not yet—but she's going to get there quickly. Her head is starting to loll forward off of his shoulder. He puts Anne's draft down on his other side and awkwardly tries to catch her. Thankfully, Anne wakes enough to catch herself. "Not asleep," she mumbles.

"You should be." Gilbert helps her up onto her bed. "I'll wake you when I leave." He sits back down next to the bed and takes the hand Anne holds out to him, placing a gentle kiss across her knuckles and brushing his thumb across her fingertips.

Anne drifts off with a smile.

* * *

Half an hour and Ruby accidentally discovering Gilbert's presence later (he begs her not to tell anyone, and not only does she comply; she offers to help him sneak out. Apparently Anne went to lengths to help Moody get in and out undetected a while back), Gilbert has written Anne an encouraging note and scratched a few minor edits onto a scrap he leaves with the article.

Ruby is standing guard and pokes her head in to hiss that if Gilbert's going to get out, it needs to be _now_.

Gilbert goes to one knee by Anne's bed and kisses her cheek. She barely stirs, having not slept nearly long enough.

He has to leave.

After a moment of thought, he tucks his scarf under Anne's arm, and he and Ruby sneak out as quickly as they can. Gilbert asks her to let Anne know he wanted to stay. Ruby laughs. "She's well aware, Gilbert." Her smile softens. "But I'll tell her anyway. Say hi to Moody for me?"

Gilbert nods. "Of course. Thanks, Ruby." He turns to go.

Ruby calls after him. "Oh, and Gilbert? You must know it's Anne's birthday next week. Mrs. Blackmore might be inclined to be a little lenient and allow you a moment if you, as her respectable beau, show up to offer her flowers. The rest of us can lay the groundwork for it."

Gilbert grins boyishly and nods. "I think I'll do just that." He waves and heads back to his lodgings with a bit of a sigh. All he'd wanted to do was curl up with Anne and take that nap with her.

Someday soon, he promises himself.

* * *

* * *

Almost three years later, they're at Redmond, half-way through their third years. It'll be Gilbert's last before he begins medical school, and Anne's got one more to go.

Studying all night has become a more frequent occurrence for both of them, but particularly for Gilbert. So, too, has Gilbert falling asleep in Anne's room while she works.

Still, as they're home for Christmas, there's no reason for Gilbert to be staying up that late. It seems it's just become habit.

A particularly snowy afternoon sees Anne reading a novel in Gilbert's room while he naps. Neither Mary nor Bash raise an eyebrow anymore when Anne comes over, and as usual, they don't particularly care that the young couple follow the letter of the law rather than the spirit of it and leave Gilbert's door cracked just a hair. They're certainly not going to get up to anything they really oughtn't with Hazel and Dellie in the house. (Hazel has spoken her opinion about the unsuitability of this precisely once, and she's slightly cooler toward Anne than she once was, but even she has to admit that their behavior, if unseemly, only endangers their reputation if anyone speaks about it, and Hazel will not gossip. She knows from overhearing a conversation between Gilbert and Bash—well, more like Bash's resulting victory song and dance—the other week that Gilbert plans to propose before the beginning of the next school year.)

The napping mood must be catching, because Anne finds herself reading the same page five times, and finally fumbling the book. She can't quite catch it quickly enough, and it hits the floor, waking Gilbert.

"Tired?" he mumbles, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

Anne blinks sleepily at him, then, with a hint of a blush, nods slowly.

Gilbert gets up, picks up the book and sets it on his desk, takes Anne's hands and pulls her to her feet, then pulls her the two steps to the bed.

Anne looks uncertain for only a moment, but settles down onto the bed carefully, so as not to muss her hair. She looks up at Gilbert, who smiles down at her, and then she moves over, patting the spot beside her once. Gilbert does not hesitate, and goes to lie back down on the bed, wrapping his arm around Anne. She nestles into his shoulder, her breath warming his neck.

Anne falls asleep less than ten minutes later, unaware that Gilbert remains wide awake, half to keep an ear on the door just in case Dellie comes to find them, and half because this is a precious moment. There will be many more just like this, he knows, and many that will be more intimate, but this is the first time they've come so close to sharing a bed, and he wants to savor it as long as he can.

Still, eventually, sleep overtakes him again.

They'll miss supper, sleeping until well after dark, and wake, flustered. They'll get back to Green Gables and Marilla will accept Anne's explanation that she just got _so_ engrossed in her novel with a skeptical eyebrow, but knowing that the two won't have been outside the house given the weather, she'll be unable to really raise any objections to what her daughter and future son-in-law (don't ask her how she knows; she just _does_ ) have really been up to. Rachel, living with her after Matthew and Thomas's respective deaths the year previous, will be mercifully asleep, and will forget to ask Anne where she's been in the morning, but it won't escape her notice that Gilbert will return Anne's book the next day with the book mark not terribly much further along than where it last was. She'll come to the same conclusion that Marilla has, and merely tut, as she always does, at the brief peck that Gilbert and Anne exchange before Gilbert leaves.

Anne, for her part, will be a little sleepier than normal the next few days, as she'll lie awake later than she really ought, remembering the feeling of lying in Gilbert's arms, and trying not to miss it too much. 

* * *

* * *

They're both exhausted. By all rights, Anne and Gilbert should be asleep. It's nearly three in the morning, but the candles still burn. 

Matthew John Blythe lies bundled between them. He is tiny, but he is sturdy. 

He is alive. 

His birth was not a particularly joyous affair. Most movements still have Anne wincing, even as she smiles down at her son. 

Gilbert has done what he can. He held Anne's hand, refusing to leave the room (he'd tried to say he is a doctor, only to have that drowned out by Anne crying the same thing), and he's fetched clean things for the bed and changed it, brought Anne fresh water for drinking and a sponge bath, coaxed porridge into her mouth (he's much better at making it palatable than he used to be), and changed a rather surprising nappy. 

Only when Anne had informed him he looked ready to keel over did he take his own break, recognizing the irony of Anne spoon-feeding him at eleven at night. 

Now, hours later, still feeling fortified and with baby Matthew just settled after nursing, they cannot sleep. They would not even if they could, but tonight, they truly _cannot_. Their hands rest gently atop baby Matthew's full little tummy, their fingers knit loosely together.

Neither is sure who starts crying first. Maybe they both start crying together. It doesn't matter. Their tears fall, hitting the bed on either side of their newborn son. 

"He's _here,_ " Anne whispers. "Gil, please tell me this is real?" 

Her husband squeezes her fingers. "It's real. We have a son, Anne. He's here, and so are y—we." 

Hearing Gilbert's quick correction, Anne squeezes his hand back. "Yes, we are," she tells him, brushing tears from her cheeks with her sleeve. 

Baby Matthew yawns in his sleep, as if to contribute to the conversation, and Anne and Gilbert laugh quietly. Anne pulls her hand from Gilbert's to stroke their son's cheek. Even in sleep, his little face turns to her touch, and Gilbert can't help running the same experiment. He gets the same results and turns to Anne with a goofy grin on his face that softens as he takes her hand and brushes a kiss across her knuckles. 

"We did this," Anne murmurs, lifting her hand to caress Gilbert's cheek. 

" _You_ did most of it," Gilbert corrects softly. He will never not give credit where it is due. 

Anne's smile changes to a bit of a smirk. "Yes, well, you did make it worth my while." 

Gilbert shrugs. "I'm surprised you can say that after…" 

Anne returns the gesture. "Mary said that it was the same after Delphine. If her illness hadn't…" She purses her lips and shakes her head. "I'm not saying I want to go through _all_ of that again. I just… understand why it's worth it. I was worried for a little while that I wouldn't, and then Matthew… he looked up at you," she admits. "And the way you looked back at him—I can only hope I look at him the same way, because I know that it makes me feel the same way I do when I see you looking at him." She sits up gingerly. 

Gilbert gets up and brings Matthew around to sit with her, kissing his wife on the cheek. "You absolutely do." He rests his head against Anne's. "I think that for now, though, we should just… learn how to be three. More can come later." 

Anne smiles and nods, nuzzling closer. "I love you, Gil." 

Gilbert kisses her forehead and wraps his arm around her. "I love you, Anne." 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, nearly 5k words later… Really, I thought this was going to be shorter, but I guess not! Those first two just got really long, and I couldn't think of a good way to cut them, so they stayed.
> 
> I think my favorite bit to write, though, honest to God, is Ruby being her romantic self and completely wingmanning for Anne and Gilbert in the best possible way. (Is it wingmanning if they're already together? I dunno. It's late and I'm tired, but my point is that Ruby is a fan of romance and so by god, she is going to make sure that this romance can continue!)
> 
> Anywho, as usual, thank you for reading! Please leave a comment and let me know what you thought! I promise I don't bite! I can also be found on Tumblr at js589.


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